


carrying the banner

by challaudaku



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 8,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/challaudaku/pseuds/challaudaku
Summary: a series of unrelated shorter newsies fics that i don't feel like posting by themselves
Comments: 22
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, you look like you need a hug.” 

Davey looks up at the words and finds Race standing above him, his ever-present cigar dangling from his lips.

“I don’t,” Davey replies. He’s surprised at how hollow his voice sounds.

Race sits down next to him anyway, and gives him an awkward sort of side hug. Davey appreciates the gesture, he appreciates the touch, but he thinks he might start crying if he gets a real hug, and he doesn’t want Race to see that ugliness. 

“You thinkin’ about Cowboy?” Race asks. 

Davey shrugs, to mean  _ yes, but I don’t want to be because I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him. _

Davey thinks half the problem is that he  _ doesn’t _ hate him, not really.

“Jack’s messed up before,” Race says, blowing smoke into the air. “But once you give him another chance, he makes up for it.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of giving him chances?” Davey asks, struggling to find any reason why he should forgive Jack. Jack was supposed to be his partner in all of this. He was the one who pulled Davey into it in the first place, and he…

He  _ ruined _ it. 

“Sometimes,” Race admits, shrugging. “But Jack stood up for me on my first day in New York. No one else would. I still owe him.”

“How’d he stand up for you?” Davey asks, and he knows it’s a personal question — probably more personal than Race would want to get — but he just needs to be reassured that Jack has  _ some _ good in him. That maybe it isn’t all for the money. That maybe there’s some other reason behind it all.

Race is quiet for a second, considering the question. After a moment of silence, he shrugs, apparently deciding to let Davey in.

“I came from Italy,” Race says, and his voice does this weird thing that Davey’s heard a few times before but has never paid attention to. His New York accent almost entirely drops, and there’s something else underneath it. “Didn’t speak a lick of English. Jack decided to let me sell with him anyway. He taught me as much English as he was able, helped me survive by myself.”

“Oh,” Davey says, because it sounds like something Jack would do. His heart gives a little pang when he thinks about it, really, because he doesn’t want Jack to be a bad person. It’s just so  _ hard _ to have to close his eyes and picture Jack taking money from Pulitzer’s lackey. Davey’s still not sure if he can get over that.

“Look, I’m sure Jack has a good reason,” Race says, lifting himself off of the ground. “I need to trust that he does.”

“Me too,” Davey says, looking up. Race hesitates, like he wants to say more, but instead he just nods and gives Davey a little smile.

“I’m here,” he says, gesturing behind Davey and Davey hadn’t even noticed he’s sitting in front of the Newsies Lodging House. “If you wanna talk.”

Davey nods, and Race nods back before walking past Davey.

Davey’s left alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is vague but like. this whole fic collection is me dumping my random writings oops. im just always a sucker for race and spot knowing each other before the whole strike and being close but something or other happened to the two of them but the strike brought them back together

Spot’s arms are covered with ruby red paint. Race watches him for a second before approaching. He’s painting the sign in front of him with careful red letters, starting to spell out BROOKLYN.

“Hey,” Race finally calls, making his presence known. 

Spot whirls around, some paint splattering off of his paintbrush.

“Damn, would it kill my men to warn me someone’s comin’?” he asks, trying to glare at Race, but Race can see him start to smile.

“Aw, ya never need no warning for me,” Race says, waving a hand. Spot rolls his eyes at him, but they both know that he’s right. “Ya still comin’ to the rally?” Race asks, walking over to Spot as he returns to painting the sign.

“‘course,” Spot says, adding a line underneath the word. “I said I would come if ya proved ya wouldn’t fold, and I don’t break my promises.”

Race makes a humming noise in his throat because he  _ knows _ that’s not true, at least when it comes to Race’s experience with Spot. Spot looks up, looking sort of guilty.

“I don’t usually break my promises,” he amends. Race bites his lips. He knows that Spot’s power and influence could make or break their strike. It’s not the time, he knows, to bring up things from the past that both of them have decided to ignore. 

“I’m glad you’re comin’,” Race says finally, because the silence has become unbearable.

“Ya don’t hate me, then?” Spot asks, looking down at his ruby red hands. Race breathes in hard, because isn’t  _ that _ a loaded question? “I know I hurt ya, Race.”

Race shrugs. Yeah, Spot hurt him, but it was nearly a year ago. It’s become easier, slowly to ignore it. 

And he knows it’s not the time.

Maybe after the rally, maybe they can talk more. 

Maybe they can become something more like what they were before. Race thinks he would like that.

“I could never hate ya.”


	3. Chapter 3

As it turns out, running a union is much more work than Jack thought it would be. There are meetings he has to go to, with the freaking _mayor_ , and with Pulitzer and the other newspaper publishers and with Spot and the other newsies leaders. And, on top of that, there’s his real jobs — he’s still selling papes _plus_ he’s making political cartoons for _The_ _World_ , which require him to not just devote time to drawing them, but devote time to find out what to draw them about.

A whole month and a half has passed before Jack really sees any of his friends — and it’s not by his own choice.

“I miss you,” someone says, and Davey is there, standing right next to Jack on his penthouse in the sky. 

That’s weird. Jack should’ve heard him come up. He blinks, and then looks down at the drawing he’s working on. He must’ve dozed off or something, because he doesn’t remember what he was in the middle of.

“Huh?” he asks, because he’s pretty sure Davey had said  _ something _ , but he didn’t catch it at all.

“I  _ miss _ you,” Davey repeats, sitting down next to Jack and pulling his art supplies away from him, despite Jack’s protests. Davey replaces the pen in Jack’s hands with his own hands and Jack looks up at Davey, finally.

“Ya saw me yesterday,” Jack says with a little shrug. “And you’ll see me tomorrow. Ya didn’t need to take a trip up here to tell me that.”

Davey bites his lip, and Jack looks at his boyfriend —  _ his boyfriend _ , a fact that still gets his heart thrumming — and knows that there’s more he wants to say. Jack waits.

“I’m worried about you,” Davey says finally, still worrying his bottom lip. “I think you need help.”

“I don’t need help,” Jack says, wriggling his hands out of Davey’s.

“Jack,” Davey says, cupping Jack’s cheek with one hand. Jack leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut. Davey doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to.

Jack supposes that he can let Davey help him. At least with the union stuff, because it was all  _ Davey _ who really got the union to take off. Maybe help wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, not when it’s coming from him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was gonna be a real fic but i got lazy anyway i love soulmate javid this is just me rambling about their first words to each other  
> 333 words by gdocs

David is born with the words  _ “What kind of newsie don’t want more papes? _ ” scrawled across his forearm, as if it was written by someone who either doesn’t have much time or much care to write neatly. He asks his father, one day, what a ‘newsie’ is. His father points out a kid, maybe around David’s own age, eight, standing on a street corner and waving a newspaper around.

“Is this about —?” Mayer asks, and David shrugs and tugs his coat a little bit tighter around his body.

He can’t imagine why  _ anyone _ would say those words to him, nevertheless his  _ soulmate _ . His soulmate is supposed to have some huge impact on his life — why is his soulmate talking to him about  _ newsies _ ? It’s not like David would ever be around anyone who would be talking about newsies in the first place. He doesn’t have a  _ problem _ with anybody who has to work out on the streets, but they’re definitely not the type of people David thinks he’d hang out with.

He supposes he’ll just have to see.

.

Jack has the words  _ “I don’t want more papes _ ” written on his leg in very careful handwriting. He finds the words hilarious, since who doesn’t want more papes? All in all, he spends probably too long thinking about them.

Maybe he meets his soulmate as he’s trying to sell more newspapers one day. He’s not sure why someone he’s selling a pape to would call them a  _ pape _ , but he likes the idea of someone humoring him and buying more than one newspaper off of him. He’s been trying, for a while, to sell more than one newspaper to people. He knows that he’s still young, but it’d be fun to know who your soulmate is, even if you can’t do much about it.

He also wonders, briefly, if one of the other  _ newsies  _ is his soulmate, but what kind of newsies  _ wouldn’t _ want more papes?

He supposes he’ll just have to see.


	5. Chapter 5

Race doesn’t know what to order. He hasn’t been to Starbucks in  _ years _ , ever since he got his own coffee maker, but he didn’t have the time to make coffee this morning. He forgot how  _ confusing _ they make everything. He just wants an iced coffee, but maybe he  _ doesn’t _ . Maybe he wants something more than that. He wouldn’t know what to even say for just an iced coffee, though, because nothing on the menu is just “iced coffee”. Does he want a cold brew? Or…?

“Hey, what can I get started for you?” someone asks, and Race looks down and —

And of course his barista has to be hot.

Or maybe he’s just the gay disaster Jack says he is.

“I —” Race says, and he temporarily forgets how to speak. He then remembers the question and blurts out, “I’ll take whatever you think is good.”

The barista, who’s name tag reads “Spot”, stares at Race for a second before shrugging and nodding. 

“What name should I put down?” he asks.

“Tony,” Race answers, trying to ignore the fact that he forgot his own name for a second. Spot nods and writes his name on the cup. A couple of minutes later, Spot holds out an iced drink of some kind and Race pays and blinks dumbly when Spot smiles at him.

When Race gets outside, he takes a sip of his drink, and it’s probably the best drink he’s ever tasted. It’s the perfect combination of chocolate and peppermint, and Race isn’t usually the biggest fan of peppermint, but it’s perfect here.

Or maybe he just likes Spot.

.

Race comes back the next morning. He asks Spot to choose something for him and smiles dumbly back at him once he pays.

.

Race goes back again. And again. And again.

His coffee maker hasn’t been touched in two weeks.

.

Race should ask Spot for his number. That’s the logical thing to do, right?

He’s been wasting his money buying more and more elaborate drinks that Spot makes up for a month now. 

Honestly, it’s mostly because Race thinks Spot is hot. That’s it. But also, for some inexplicable reason, all of Spot’s drinks makes Race fall a little bit harder for him.

“I’ll take whatever you think is good,” Race says once he gets to the counter. Spot grins at him, and already has a drink in his hand.

“It’s on the house,” Spot says, as Race gets his credit card out. “Really,” he adds, as Race tries to give Spot his card anyway.

“Why?” Race says, frowning a little but taking the cup from Spot’s hand anyway.

“You’ve been coming in here for like a month and drinking every crappy thing I give you,” Spot says, his lips curling up a little bit. “I don’t know what half the drinks taste like. I just pump shit into a cup.”

“Oh,” Race says, looking down at today’s cup, where Tony is written with a little smiley face. “My friends call me Race,” he blurts out, looking back up at Spot.

“Race?” Spot repeats, and Race wants him to say his name over and over again. 

“Yeah, it’s short for Racetrack,” Race says, and Spot probably thinks he’s weird, but his name is  _ Spot _ . 

“Am I your friend?” Spot asks, still smiling easily at Race. 

“Yeah, I mean,” Race says, glad there’s no one else in the store, “I’ve been coming in here for a month and drinking all the shit you give me.”

Spot grins at Race, now, and Race can’t help but grin right on back. 

“Can I please give you something for this?” Race asks, holding up his cup. 

Spot is silent for a second, considering. “Your number?” he asks, his voice quiet.

Race grins so wide his face hurts.

As he leaves, he takes a sip and he likes Spot even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (for challenges, feel free to ignore)  
> day 11, auction 2 - it only takes a taste from waitress (649 words by gdocs)  
> elizabeth’s empire - (au) coffee shop


	6. Chapter 6

Davey’s in too deep. He’s in too deep with being in love with Jack, because he knows that he’s not Jack’s soulmate and he knows that Jack isn’t  _ his _ . He has the name Benjamin etched on his shoulder, and unless he’s deeply mistaken about Jack’s name, Jack isn’t Benjamin.

Still, something about Jack simply draws Davey in. He’s been a newsie for five months by this point, and he is totally and utterly in love with him.

He’s going to be in trouble when he meets his Benjamin.

“Davey?” Buttons says, pulling Davey away from staring at Jack. 

“Yeah?” Davey says. He’s never really talked to Buttons by himself, but he likes him well enough.

“Um,” Buttons says, as all the other newsies walk around them, starting the selling day. “My real name is Benjamin.”

Davey’s quiet for a moment, but then he stands there, opening and closing his mouth and staring at Buttons.

“Benjamin?” he says, sounding a bit choked.

“Yeah,” Buttons says, smiling ruefully at Davey. “But there’s somethin’ else.”

Davey waits, not sure what to say. He’s just staring at Buttons, at  _ his soulmate _ . 

“I don’t really like anyone like that,” Buttons says, simply. “I don’t really like anyone like that.”

“Oh,” Davey says, for lack of anything better to say. Buttons hesitates, and then he grabs Davey, pulling him a little bit aways.

“I’ve seen how you look at Jack,” Buttons says, simply, once they’re away from all the others. Davey still doesn’t know what to say.  _ He doesn’t know what to say _ . It feels like his shoulder is burning from where Buttons’ name is etched into it.

“Is it that obvious?” Davey asks, finally. Buttons shrugs, smiling a little bit.

“Hey, I don’t mind,” he says, leaning back a little with a shrug. “Maybe we can just be friend-soulmates.”

“Friend-soulmates,” Davey repeats. He thinks he’d like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (for challenges, feel free to ignore)  
> day 15, auction 2 - [Soulmate!AU] You find your soulmate... but they're not the person you've fallen in love with. (312 words by gdocs)  
> elizabeth’s empire - (au) Soulmate


	7. Chapter 7

There’s a noise coming from Race’s bathroom. He’s not sure whether to go closer and investigate, because to his knowledge, he’s all alone in his apartment. He’s a little bit concerned about the noise, but also, he’d rather  _ not _ be murdered by a creepy stalker that’s in his bathroom.

Race’s solution, then, is to ignore the sound until it goes away.

That, though, doesn’t work very well, because the sound doesn’t stop. Also, Race can’t really ignore it, not when it sounds like someone screaming.

Letting out a deep breath, Race looks around his apartment for something he can use as a weapon. Finally he decides on an umbrella. Realistically, he knows that an umbrella isn’t going to save him from much, but he feels better holding something. Plus, he doesn’t really have any good weapons in his apartment.

Slowly, slowly, he creeps towards his bathroom door, gripping his umbrella hard. As he approaches, he can hear that his shower is running. The screaming, also, sounds more like singing.

Someone broke into his apartment to sing in his shower?

Race grips his umbrella a little bit harder.

He’s realizing, now, as he reaches his hand out to reach for the bathroom doorknob, that whoever broke into his house to sing in the shower is probably  _ naked _ in the shower. Is he mentally prepared to see a naked intruder?

Is the bathroom door even going to be unlocked?

There’s only one way to find out, Race supposes. He grabs the handle and turns it.

As soon as he gets into the bathroom he lets out a yell, brandishing his umbrella. The person in his shower is hidden by the curtain, but they yell too, until they’re both yelling and Race decides to stick his head into the shower.

He’s still yelling, but his yelling turns slowly into laughing as he realizes who’s in there. Spot, in all his naked glory, is standing there. He forgot he had given him a key. Race is laughing now, and Spot is looking concerned, and Race is just thinking about one thing, really:

“You sing in the shower?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (for challenges feel free to ignore)  
> day 26, auction 2 - singing in the shower (353 words by gdocs)


	8. Chapter 8

Spot had figured that when the apocalypse came that he would be  _ doing _ something. He had figured he would be outside, seeing the world implode. He had figured he would be watching the news in horror, seeing zombies crawl across his screen. He had figured, at the very least, he would be getting killed.

Except he’s not doing any of those things.

Because when the apocalypse comes, Spot is busy making out with his boyfriend in a bomb shelter that they probably shouldn’t have been in in the first place, but the fact that Race dragged Spot in here to make out probably saved both of their lives. 

When all is said and done, and they go back outside, their world is ravaged. It’s all quiet and it’s all destroyed. There’s rubble and garbage everywhere.

“Holy fuck,” Race says, which sums it all up. 

“Holy fuck,” Spot echos. “Do you think anyone else is here?” he asks, grabbing Race’s hand and moving through the rubble slowly. He's sort of glad to know that bomb shelters actually work, but he also thinks it sucks that no one else used one — it’s not like they had any company.

“I don’t think anyone could survive this,” Race says, looking around the destruction with wide blue eyes. “What  _ happened? _ ”

“No clue,” Spot says quietly, even though he knows Race’s question was rhetorical. “Is this the apocalypse?” he asks, although he expected the end of the world to come by zombies or global warming. Not by a bomb, or a meteor, or… or whatever this is.

“Are we the last people left?” Race asks, glancing sideways at Spot before glancing down at their hands. Spot shrugs. “Well, you know what we have to do if we are.”

“What?” Spot says, turning to peer into the distance to see if there’s  _ anything _ out there, but there’s blankness as far as he can see, just rubble.

“Repopulate,” Race says, sounding sincere but he’s grinning when Spot looks back over at him.

Spot is going to punch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (for challenges, feel free to ignore)  
> day 10, auction 1 - [Scenario] We might be the only two people left and I swear to god if you say one more thing about repopulating I will break your nose (341 words by gdocs)


	9. Chapter 9

Race doesn’t remember a time where his head hurt more than it does right now. In fact, it’s not just his head that’s hurting — his entire body, top to bottom, is absolutely aching and throbbing. His head, though, probably hurts the most. It makes him feel dizzy to stand up and he can’t really see straight and he probably, in retrospect, should’ve known better than to run his mouth in front of gang members. In all honesty, he’s probably lucky to be alive.

He’s alive, but he feels like he’s dying, and he knows he should get home to Manhattan, but instead he’s laying slumped against an alley wall in Brooklyn, feeling five seconds away from death. 

Brooklyn, he realizes, maybe a little late but his head  _ hurts _ . He’s closer to the Brooklyn lodging house than the Manhattan one — he usually is, since his selling spot is in Brooklyn itself. 

And, plus, Spot, of course. 

The Brooklyn newsies probably won’t  _ kill _ him for showing up half-dead on their doorstop. Race has full trust that Spot would stop them. He thinks Spot loves him enough for that. He hopes. Spot’ll just be a little bit disappointed and will probably tell Jack, who will probably mother-hen him for the next week or call him an idiot. Or both.

It’s that or die in an alleyway in Brooklyn, and Race doesn’t particularly want to die in an alleyway in Brooklyn, so he forces himself to his feet.

He doesn’t remember how he managed to get himself to the Brooklyn lodging house, but he remembers seeing Spot right near the doorstep. He recognizes him, even with his dizzy head and his blurry eyes.

“Spot,” Race says, trying to give him a winning smile, but it drops fast. His face hurts too much to do that.

“Race?” Spot says, looking genuinely concerned for Race, which Race thinks is cute. Race tries to stumble forward towards Spot, but his body hurts and he’s already been walking for a while, but Spot gets up quickly and manages to catch Race in his arms as he falls forward.

“Huh,” Race says, looking up at Spot’s furrowed brows. “I guess I fell for ya,” he tells Spot, trying to give the biggest grin he can without it hurting too much.

Race manages to see Spot roll his eyes right before he passes out, and honestly, that’s worth everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (for challenges feel free to ignore)  
> day 7, auction 3 - character a literally falls into character b’s arms (401 words by gdocs)


	10. Chapter 10

Jack’s the youngest newsie. Depending on his mood, it’s either a blessing or a curse. It’s a blessing because he gets taken care of, as a newsie. He’s sure that he would get taken care of if he was older, but it’s nice to have a little bit of comfort to know that if he doesn’t sell enough papers, he has people there to back him up. It’s a curse, because they all think he’s some little kid. The curse bleeds in the blessing, sometimes, because he’s being taken care of because they think he’s a little kid, but Jack’s  _ not _ . He’s only seven. Seven isn’t that young, in Jack’s humble opinion — there’s just no other newsies his age, so it  _ seems  _ young.

And then, one day, that  _ changes _ , because one day there’s another kid at the paper distribution center. Jack finds out, pretty quickly, that the kid is the same age as him and that he needs his crutch to walk and that Jack is going to be his best friend forever.

.

It’s slightly depressing, Jack thinks, to realize that everyone that was a newsie when he was a kid is gone. He knows, by most standards, that he’s still a kid at thirteen, but he’s been on his own for a while, so he doesn’t think it really counts. Still, he misses all of his old friends, the ones he’s known for ages.

And then Jack looks at his side and sees Crutchie there and he knows that he still has his best friend and isn’t that worth everything?

.

Crutchie’s right, Jack thinks. He can’t go to Santa Fe because New York’s got his  _ family _ . Family, Crutchie says, and Jack hasn’t had a typical family in years and years, but he knows that family means forever.

He can’t leave his family, just like he knows they wouldn’t leave him.

They’re stuck with each other forever.

.

There’s no real retirement from being a newsie. A lot of newsies, over the years, have died, or got a proper job, or have moved. They’ve all moved on from actually being a newsie and selling papes every day, but they’re still a Newsie. They’re still part of their family.

Jack thinks he’s done being a newsie. He knows he’s still going to be a Newsie, but it’s a little but sad to realize that he might not see all of his friends as much.

And then Crutchie says that there’s no way the two of them will ever stop bugging each other and Jack feels better about it.

.

Jack and Katherine get married and Crutchie ties Jack’s bowtie at his wedding. The wedding flair isn’t exactly Jack’s thing, but Pulitzer had insisted on paying for it all and Jack couldn’t exactly say  _ no _ .

His entire life is changing, but the one thing that’s not is Crutchie being by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 25, auction 1, you’re timeless to me from hairspray (479 words by gdocs)


	11. Chapter 11

And Jack does it.

Jack does it. He betrays his friends, he says that they should disband the union, he says that Pulitzer will give them a deal that’s going to bite them in the ass in two years. He watches the faces of his friends fall around him, he watches them realize that he betrayed them, he watches them leave the stage.

And Pulitzer pays him, just like he had said.

It’s not like Jack did it for the money — he didn’t, not when it comes down to it. Mostly, he did it to protect Crutchie, to protect Les, to protect  _ Davey _ . Still, now, at least, Jack can do what he does best — run away. He has Medda’s payments, and now he has Pulizter’s money, and now he can just… He can just leave.

He knows that he’s a coward. Wasn’t that what Davey had said he was in the first place? Jack had denied it, then, but there’s no denying the truth, he supposes. It hurts, but he was the one that did the hurting in the first place.

And then — “I need to know that you didn’t cave for the money,” Katherine Plumber —  _ Pulitzer  _ — tells him and Jack lets out a bitter laugh.

He didn’t cave for the money. He got the money, but he doesn’t feel like he’s won anything. It doesn’t feel like he got what he really wanted.

Katherine tells him about her plan, about the Children’s Crusade, and if Pulitzer isn’t going to give Jack what he deserves — what  _ all _ the newsies deserve — why  _ shouldn’t _ Jack raise hell on him? 

The city of New York doesn’t notice their working kids when they’re working. It doesn’t care about them. 

Well, Jack wonders how much they’ll care when they’re gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 23, auction 2, the pied piper (302 words by gdocs)


	12. Chapter 12

Jack doesn’t have much luck with romances. He’s realizing that now, because he’s had five exes in the past five years. They’ve all been great and sweet and he’s loved all of them so, so much.

Unfortunately, they never seemed to love him in the same way. The relationships always ended, without fail, and Jack feels a little bit crushed about it. Honestly, when it comes down to it, all Jack someone wants is someone he can spend his whole life with.

And then there’s Davey.

Jack’s nervous about Davey, all things considered. His past relationships have all ended in the same way: with Jack, single and alone, and just wanting someone who would genuinely and purely love him.

He really hopes Davey is that person. 

Because Davey is  _ Davey _ . Davey is sweet, and he seems totally willing to date Jack. Jack knows that he has a slight reputation around their small town — it’s not exactly a big town and news of Jack’s quick relationships have gotten around, especially the details of his messy break ups. 

Jack’s only met Davey a handful of times and  _ maybe _ he falls in love all too fast, but Davey’s sweet. He speaks like he’s choosing every word carefully, like every word he says is important. He listens to Jack with his whole body. He’s shy, but Jack has seen terrible amounts of sass peek out of him, and  _ God _ , he wants to see more and more and more.

And this time, Jack doesn’t want their relationship to end. He’s never particularly  _ wanted _ his relationships to end, but near the end of all of his relationships, it was pretty clear that they weren’t going to work out.

This time, Jack’s going to fight for it until the very very end. No matter what happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 16, auction 2, tudor au (300 words by gdocs)


	13. Chapter 13

“Do you need help?”

The new kid — Elmer — seems strangely offended at Jack’s offer and turns a little bit away from him, shifting his papers in his arms.

“No,” Elmer says, sounding quite determined. Jack purses his lips, trying not to laugh. He looks down at Elmer’s stack of papers and recalls him buying a full stack of one hundred, just like Jack did. Jack’s stack, though, only has a measly ten left in it. It’s been a good day for selling.

Elmer’s stack, on the other hand, looks like he hasn’t sold a single paper. 

“Are you sure?” Jack asks, because he can understand not wanting to accept help, but he also knows that every newsie is a newsie for the same reason, more or less — they need the money. If you don’t sell any papers, you don’t get any money.

Elmer frowns at Jack and Jack can see his eyes go down to glance at Jack’s stack of papes.

“You sold all of those?” Elmer asks, sounding a little bit in awe of Jack.

Jack grins. “Yeah, it was easy,” he tells Elmer, and Elmer looks like he’s not really sure what to reply to that.

“Can you show me?” Elmer asks quietly after a few seconds. Jack grins a little bit wider.

With perfect timing, a lady walks down the street they’re on. Jack goes up to her quickly, holding out a paper and talking fast. It’s not a particularly good headline today, but he can work with it. In the end she gives him a dime, and Jack turns back to Elmer, showing it off.

“Please sell with me,” Elmer asks, looking at Jack with wide eyes. Jack wonders, briefly, if Elmer has anyone in his life to give him guidance like Jack can. 

Jack’s willing to give him that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 21, auction 2, friend like me - aladdin (307 words by gdocs)


	14. Chapter 14

“You wanna do a 5k?” Albert asks, digging his toes into Charlie’s leg as he scrolls through his phone.

“Al,” Charlie says, because by this point Albert really should know better. Charlie can’t do a 5k. He can’t  _ run _ , in case Albert forgot after knowing him for nearly twenty years.

“We can walk it,” Albert says with a little half shrug. Charlie frowns, because he’s not sure about doing even that. 5k is  _ long _ .

“Al,” Charlie repeats. Albert looks up at him, smiling lightly. He gives Charlie a little half-shrug, like  _ what can you do _ ? Charlie briefly wonders why he loves Albert again.

“It’ll be a cute date,” Albert argues, shifting around on their couch to place his head on Charlie’s lap. Charlie half-rolls his eyes, because Albert would think that watching paint dry is a cute date idea. Honestly, as long as Charlie’s with Albert, it probably  _ would _ be a cute date. “And it’s for a good cause,” Albert points out.

“What’s the cause?” Charlie asks a little bit weakly, because the last time Albert donated — “It’s for the overflow of kittens in shelters, Char!” he had said — he got ripped off and gave some random person five hundred dollars.

“This animal shelter on eighth,” Albert says, grabbing Charlie’s hand and moving it to his head. Charlie complies, running his fingers through Albert’s hair.

“A real shelter?” Charlie asks, just to make sure.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Albert insists, leaning into Charlie’s lap hard. “I checked and everything.”

Charlie lets out a deep sigh, because he’s not too sure about doing a 5k. Even with Albert by his side. Still, he likes animals. He likes Albert. He likes giving to charity, he  _ does _ . Albert mimics his sigh, drawing it out, and Charlie rolls his eyes, but it brings a smile to his face.

“Fine,” Charlie says finally. As long as he’s doing it with Albert.

“It costs one hundred dollars to sign up,” Albert tells him.

Charlie blinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 12, auction 1, charity au (328 words by gdocs)


	15. Chapter 15

“I see how you look at him.”

Without even looking, Davey can tell that it’s Race that sits down next to him by the smoke that follows him.

“What?” Davey asks, a creeping feeling on his neck. He thinks he knows exactly what Race is talking about, but it’s not like he’s going to  _ say _ it.

“At both of them,” Race says, waving his cigar and gesturing to the far corner of the room. He gestures to the same spot Davey’s been looking at for the entire time they’ve been having their monthly newsie meeting. 

Jack and Katherine are there, sitting all close together, their knees bumping. They lean into each other to talk and they laugh and Davey’s throat feels scratchy.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Davey says. His mouth feels dry, all of the sudden. He should probably get water.

“Hm,” Race says, leaning back and taking a drag of his cigar. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to move and if Davey gets up now he’ll probably be seen as rude, so Davey stays where he is, still looking over at the corner with Jack and Katherine. “Let’s just say,” Race says, and oh, good, Race is talking more, “I have first-hand experience in loving somebody you shouldn’t.”

Davey whips his head around to stare at Race, who gives him a casual shrug. 

“Yeah,” Davey says, knowing full well how weak his voice sounds. This is a bomb that he  _ needs _ to diffuse. “You’re right,” he says, letting out the tiniest laugh. “I like Katherine.” Race raises a single eyebrow at Davey, but Davey can’t make his mouth stop moving. “I know, I shouldn’t love my best friend’s —”

“No,” Race says, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “No, Daves.”

“I —” Davey says, because  _ god _ , Race knows, he  _ knows _ , and if he knows then — then  _ who else _ ?

“No,” Race says again. Davey opens his mouth, but no words come out and Race shakes his head again. “You know, Spot and I was best friends when we was younger.”

“Was?” Davey repeats, because he thinks he might implode.

“Yeah, and then I fell in love with him,” Race says, like it’s all that simple. Davey purses his lips and Race shrugs his shoulders. “Just —” Race begins, but he seems to think better of whatever he wanted to say, because instead he sticks his cigar in his mouth.

Race pats Davey’s shoulder and then walks away, leaving Davey to his staring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 17, auction 4, [Dialogue] "Let's just say I have first-hand experience in loving somebody you shouldn't." (418 words by gdocs)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is based off of repo! the genetic opera which is... interesting

Spot sort of hates his job. It’s hard not to, when his job is literally  _ killing _ people, but it’s not like he can decide to just quit it. It’s either he does the killing or he gets killed. Most of the time, Spot just dislikes his job. 

Sometimes, like right now, Spot outright hates it. 

God, he wishes he chose a better career.

His job, in theory, seems pretty easy. Most of the time — if he doesn’t let himself think about it for too long — he’s fine. He just does it, and that’s it. 

Except sometimes — like  _ now _ , for example — Spot can’t help but get into his own head about it all. 

“What’s your name?” the guy asks, blinking down at Spot with big blue eyes. Spot’s mouth goes a little bit dry and he has to remind himself that he’s supposed to be  _ killing _ this guy. Not falling for him.

Except the guy is sort of, maybe, gorgeous. God, Spot needs to get out more.

“Spot,” Spot replies, despite everything he’s supposed to be doing. “What’s yours?” he asks, and  _ no, Spot, this guy owes money and needs to die for it. _ Spot wonders, briefly, what part of his body is a transplant. Maybe it’s the eyes, because Spot doesn’t know how anyone could have eyes that naturally blue. It’s probably the eyes.

“They call me Race,” the guy — Race — says, and Spot  _ knows _ it’s dangerous to learn names, it’s dangerous to see his targets as anything other than targets, but Spot is  _ weak _ because Race is staring at him with blue eyes and a pretty face and Spot is a  _ killer _ . He should not melt for something like this.

He needs to just separate himself from this. He needs to just think of Race as not Race, as not a human. Half of his organs are probably transferred, anyway, so it’s not as if he’s wholly Race.

He can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 20, auction 1, repo! the genetic opera (329 words by gdocs)  
> time machine - AU: Spy/Assassin


	17. Chapter 17

Sean understands that there’s about five different ways to spell his name. That’s why, whenever he goes out for coffee, he goes by Spot. There’s literally only one way to spell Spot. It’s four letters long, and it’s a  _ word _ . He doesn’t understand how someone could mess that up. 

“Coffee for Spit?” the barista calls, and Sean blinks.

“Coffee for who now?” he asks, standing by the counter. He’s one of two people in the Starbucks, and there’s no way a name that close to his is referring to someone else.

“Spit,” the barista replies, smiling over at Sean easily. His blue eyes are filled with mirth, and Sean sort of wants to punch him. “I believe that’s you?”

Sean bites his tongue to keep from saying anything because he knows that this poor guy — Tony, his name tag reads — is probably working too many hours and not getting paid nearly enough. And in all honesty, he doesn’t know why it bugs him so much whenever his name is spelled wrong on cups. Sean looks down at his cup, though, and  _ spit _ is written there in big blocky letters and irritation climbs up in his throat. 

He’s about to just take a deep breath and walk away and drink his coffee when a horrible thought comes to his head.

“You didn’t spit in this, did you?” he asks Tony. In retrospect, that question is probably horribly rude, but the thought of drinking some stranger’s spit makes Sean feel sort of sick.

“Sorry, what?” Tony asks, his blue eyes blinking over at Sean slowly.

“Did you spit in this?” Sean asks again. “Since you think my name is Spit and all.”

“Why would I spit in your drink?” Tony asks, leaning over the counter to look closer at Sean. “I feel like that’s illegal on my part.”

Sean narrows his eyes at Tony and, still making eye contact, takes a sip of his coffee.

“You win this round, Tiny,” Sean says. He turns and walks away before Tony can register what he’s said and it feels good to misname the barista right back.

He needs to come back at the same time tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 22, auction 3, [Scenario] You spelt my name wrong on my coffee. I will have my revenge! (364 words by gdocs)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 21, auction 1, [Soulmate] You have a limited number of words, and you can only recharge when you're with your soulmate (when you use up your word count, you die) (331 words by gdocs)

Benny has three words left. It sort of sucks, because it’s sort of impossible to do anything without speaking. Sure, sign language has become pretty widely spread, but plenty of people have just  _ not _ learned it. People would just rather find their soulmates, rather than not being able to speak. 

It’s also hard to remember to  _ not _ speak, because when so many people talk to Benny, he responds out of instinct. It’s the reason he has such a low amount of words in the first place.

The thing is, though, is that all of his friends have been through the same thing. Their words have gotten down to almost zero and they’ve had to go quiet for ages. It’s not uncommon to stick your head into a high school classroom and find everyone completely silent. Every single word matters.

The difference between him and his friends is that all of his friends have  _ found _ their soulmates. They’ve already been able to recharge their words.

Benny hasn’t been able to.

_ I don’t think I have a soulmate, _ Benny writes on a piece of paper. He passes the sheet to his best friend, Davey, who reads the sheet quickly and frowns.

“Everyone has a soulmate,” Davey says, shaking his head a little bit. Benny loves Davey, he does, but there’s no real way that Davey  _ understands _ . Davey found his soulmate, Jack, when he was fourteen. He’s never gotten down to as low as three words.

It’s more of a gut instinct than anything else, this feeling like he doesn’t have a soulmate. It’s not just frustration that he hasn’t found his, it’s just that he doesn’t know what he would  _ do _ with a soulmate other than recharge his words. Most people date their soulmates.

Benny doesn’t think he would want to date his soulmate, whoever they are. He doesn’t think he wants to date, period.

And so doesn’t that mean he might not have one, if he feels like that?

Benny stays quiet.


	19. Chapter 19

Crutchie is staring at a single spot on the floor. Albert is almost afraid to approach him in case he startles him. Eventually, Albert makes his way over and him walking in front of Crutchie makes him jump, just the slightest bit.

“What are ya thinkin’ ‘bout?” Albert asks, sitting on the other side of Crutchie’s bed. Crutchie looks at Albert for a second before looking back down at the floor and staring hard.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, just staring, before he says, very quietly, “You.”

Albert’s not sure he heard right.

“What?” he asks, and Crutchie’s entire body slumps, just a little, like he doesn’t want to say it again.

“You,” Crutchie says, a little bit louder, but just slightly. “I’m thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Oh, cool, I was thinkin’ ‘bout me too,” Albert jokes, leaning back on the bed so that he supports himself with his hands. It takes him a few minutes for Crutchie’s words to really sink in. “Wait, what?” Albert asks, sitting back up. Why would Crutchie be thinking about  _ him _ ? That doesn’t make any sense.

Albert looks sideways over at Crutchie, whose face looks like it’s burning up. 

“Forget I said anythin’,” Crutchie says with a half-shrug. “It don’t matter, really.”

Albert frowns and opens and closes his mouth several times without saying anything, because he feels like it  _ does _ matter.

“Thinkin’  _ what _ about me?” Albert asks finally. When Crutchie doesn’t answer, Albert slides closer to him and knocks their knees together. 

“It  _ really _ don’t matter,” Crutchie insists, but he won’t meet Albert’s eyes, so Albert feels like that’s not quite true. 

“Are ya sure?” Albert says, knocking their knees together again. Crutchie makes a little sound like he’s being strangled and then he turns and, quicker than Albert can even react, presses a kiss to Albert’s lips.

Albert opens and closes his mouth several times once again, feeling a little bit like a goldfish. He doesn’t say anything — he  _ can’t _ say anything — as Crutchie grabs his crutch and walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 30, auction 2, [Dialogue] "Oh cool, I was thinking about me too." (340 words by gdocs)


	20. Chapter 20

“Please dance with me,” Race says, for probably the thousandth time since he’s started dating Spot. “ _ Please _ .”

“How’s I supposed to dance if you’s layin’ across my legs?” Spot asks and Race gets up so fast that all the blood rushes to his head and he feels sort of woozy. 

“There,” Race says, gesturing towards Spot’s now empty legs. “You wanna dance?”

“No,” Spot says, leaning back and looking back at his newspaper. 

“ _ Spot _ ,” Race says, flopping back to lay across Spot’s legs. Spot lets out a little soft  _ oof _ , and Race grins.

“ _ Race _ ,” Spot says, in a pretty good imitation of Race’s tone. Race’s grin drops. 

“You know, Crutchie dances with Albert,” he points out, pouting up at Spot. “Why won’t ya dance with me?”

“Good for Crutch ‘n’ Al,” Spot says, not even looking at Race, essentially making Race’s pout worthless. “I don’t dance.”

“Come  _ on _ ,” Race says, getting up and whining, just a little bit. “Dancin’ is  _ so good _ . You can dance  _ whenever _ . When the world sucks, just dance! Everythin’ will be okay when you dance.”

“Racer,” Spot says, looking up at him. “You are so full of shit.”

“Dancin’ shit?” Race asks hopefully, moving his hips a tiny bit. Spot puts his newspaper to the side to give his full attention to Race so that he can glare properly at him. “Please, Spot,” Race asks, completely and utterly genuine.

Spot closes his eyes for a second before opening them and standing up with a sigh.

“Ya get to teach me  _ one _ step,” Spot says, reaching his hand out. Race grabs it, almost not believing what he’s hearing. “ _ One _ .”

Race grips Spot’s hand and racks his mind for what his one move should be. He wants to do  _ so many things _ . He’s not sure if he should spin Spot, or put him in a dip, or teach him a two-step.

Then, an amazing idea comes to his mind:

“I’m going to teach you a lift.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 31, auction 2, [Dialogue] "When the world sucks, just dance!" (328 words by gdocs)


	21. Chapter 21

It’s freezing.

No one’s going to be outside today — the newsies already made that mistake yesterday, going out on the empty streets. Today’s even colder, so they’re all holded up inside of the lodge, trying to find some way to keep warm. 

Jack’s wrapped his thin blanket around himself — he’s one of the lucky ones, able to get his own blanket — but he can still feel the chill creeping into his bones. He glances around the room, looking at his fellow newsies. His eyes land on Race, who’s sitting to one side, his knees drawn up to his chest, lighting his cigar.

“That work, Racer?” Jack asks, walking over to Race as Race takes a deep drag.

Race gives Jack a little shrug. “Better than nothin’.”

Jack slides down against the wall, sitting next to Race as Race blows out smoke. It’s not super hot, but compared to the regular chill, it feels like a furnace. Jack basks in it for a second. 

“It’s freezin’,” Jack says, like it’s not obvious. Race wordlessly hands Jack his cigar and Jack takes a drag from it, but it doesn’t do much to warm his bones. 

Jack hands it back and Race looks at it for a second. He takes another drag and then inches a little bit closer to Jack, pressing up against his side.

Without even thinking about it, Jack lifts his arm to wrap it around Race’s body. It’s honestly not that much warmer than just smoking Race’s cigar, but the fact that it’s another living, breathing, human being makes it so much better. Race leans into him and Jack leans right on back.

They don’t even talk — it’s like they’re just reading each other’s minds a little bit. Race shifts around so that he’s practically sitting on top of Jack and he twists to put out his cigar before wrapping both of his arms around Jack’s torso. 

Jack hugs him back, and it doesn’t feel all that cold anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 31, auction 3, huddling for warmth (334 words by gdocs)


	22. Chapter 22

“Can you  _ stop _ annoying me?” Spot asks, as soon as he picks up Race’s call. 

“Um,” Race says, taken aback by the tone of his boyfriend’s voice. “I didn’t —”

“You’re like this guy, that’s like — around, all the time, when I don’t need a guy around,” Spot says, even though Race hasn’t said  _ anything _ . His tone is cold, and so  _ un _ -Spot-like and Race’s first instinct is to think that something’s wrong. Why else would Spot be talking like that?

“Are you okay?” Race asks, frowning at the speaker of his phone. 

“I’m fine,” Spot snaps, and Race can’t make himself believe that. “Look, can you just not call me for a few hours? I just —”

“Okay,” Race says, cutting Spot off, because he can already feel himself start to overthink. He doesn’t want to hear Spot’s explanation, or anything like that.

“Okay,” Spot says. They’re both quiet for a moment and Race pulls his phone away from his face because he thinks Spot might have hung up. Spot hadn’t, as it turns out, and so Race presses the end call button, his heart already plummeting.

He shouldn’t overthink it. Spot’s probably just having a bad day. It’s just — Race doesn’t  _ try _ to be annoying. He liked annoying Spot, but he thinks it’s in an affectionate sort of way. 

He just never thought that Spot doesn’t think the same.

Race just needs to talk to Spot about it. That’s all. He shouldn’t overthink it. 

…

Race, of course, spends the entire day overthinking it. 

By the time Spot gets home, five hours later, he’s nearly worn a hole into the ground from the amount of pacing he’s done.

“Whoa,” Spot says as he walks in, grabbing Race’s shoulders. Spot leans in to kiss Race but Race moves away, his heart pounding hard in his chest. “Are you okay?” Spot asks, looking at Race all over.

“Are you?” Race asks, hating how strangled his voice sounds.

“Yeah,” Spot says, frowning so hard that a line appears between his eyebrows. “What’s  _ wrong _ ?” 

“I don’t know,” Race says, feeling just the tiniest bit peeved off. “Are you sure you need a guy around right now?”

“What — oh,” Spot says, and at least he has the decency to look ashamed at it. “I didn’t mean —”

“What did you mean, exactly?” Race asks, inching a little bit further away from Spot.

“No, shit, I —”

And then Spot pulls a ring out of his pocket and bends down on one knee.

“What,” Race says.

“I was buying this,” Spot says, smiling ruefully up at Race. “I know what I said was shitty. I’m  _ sorry _ and I love you. I just really didn’t want you to know.”

“What you said was shitty,” Race agrees. “And I definitely didn’t know.”

“Race,” Spot says, looking up at Race. “Will you marry me?”

Race can’t help but say yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 29, auction 2, [Dialogue] "You're like this guy, that's like—around, all the time, when I don't need a guy around." (485 words by gdocs)


	23. Chapter 23

Davey has a guilty conscience. It’s hard not to, when he’s spent the better part of the last three years half-dating someone who  _ already has a girlfriend _ .

At the same time he’s laying, wrapped up in Jack’s arms, with Jack’s fingers tracing his body, and his heart is beating just for Jack. Jack leans in and presses a kiss to Davey’s forehead, and for just a second, Davey can give into the belief that he’s the only person Jack has ever loved and the only person Jack  _ will _ ever love.

“Jackie,” Davey says, just his name, nothing more, and Jack moves to kiss the corner of Davey’s lips.

“Davey,” he says quietly. Davey closes his eyes as Jack’s lips find his and he lets Jack kiss him for a few moments, but then he pulls away because,  _ fuck _ —

“We shouldn’t do this,” Davey says. It’s not the first time he’s said it, not by far, because Jack only has to give him a single look before Davey’s heart is beating fast and his knees go weak. 

“We’s been fine so’s far,” Jack points out, his voice low in a way that’s already got Davey feeling a little bit weak.

“Yeah, but we won’t be,” Davey says, reaching for Jack’s left hand and rubbing his ring finger. Jack takes the ring off whenever he’s over, but Davey doesn’t think either of them really forget that it’s supposed to be there. “You’re getting  _ married _ , Jackie.”

“I know,” Jack replies, and Davey can hear the genuine pain in his voice. 

It hurts him, too, to know that Jack loves him and it’s not his fault, or Jack’s fault, it’s just how the world is. A fella can’t be with another fella. They knew that, before they started anything.

“It don’t have to end,” Jack says, his voice low and desperate. “Not like this.”

“I’m afraid it does,” Davey says, feeling like there’s a rock in his mouth. 

It’s not fair to them, if they can’t be fully happy together. It’s not fair to Kath, if she has to be second to Davey without even knowing it. Jack knows that too.

And  _ God _ , now Davey’s thinking about the future. What if Jack has kids? What would he be to them, if he and Jack keep on loving each other?

Jack wraps his arms around Davey tight, and they both know that there’s finality in the hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 31, auction 4, [Dialogue] "It doesn't have to end. Not like this." // "I'm afraid it does." (403 words by gdocs)


End file.
